on a wednesday, in a cafe
by personaeleven
Summary: AU. to new beginnings.


A/N: An AU where Chuck never grew up in New York. It's Chuck/Serena and not very kind to Blair and Nate - I would have spent more time on them, but I don't have much time recently with exams coming up so hopefully I can come back and edit this! Reviews are much appreciated (: I love this pairing but I doubt they could ever work in the show, considering their first meeting/history as siblings and all, but at least they can work in fiction. Also I apologise for the hasty ending!

Title shamelessly stolen from Taylor Swift.

* * *

Serena hates Paris.

It's supposed to be the city of love, as Blair is constantly (too brightly) reminding her. _And the city of cute Frenchmen, S._ Cute Frenchmen that seem to be in never-ending supply. Every time she blows off the latest guy to ask her out, another one pops up just as she's shopping or tasting macaroons with Blair, and the brunette is always all too eager to agree for her best friend.

It's not like she hasn't tried to be happy. This is their last summer after high school, after all. The three of them - her, Blair, Nate - are going their separate ways. And they've been planning this trip for years, their last vacation as proper teenagers. They're _actually_ drinking champagne right next to the Seine, walking past the artists painting this city, buying trinkets and flowers and singing French folk songs. She's tried to enjoy all of it.

But sitting in this ridiculously overpriced cafe, next to Jean or Pierre or Henri or _whatever_ his name is, all Serena can think about is that she's miserable. She doesn't want a whirlwind romance with this blue-eyed, light-haired prince of a boy, with his lilted French and polished laugh. He's about the right height and the right build, but when she closes her eyes the boy she's kissing has darker golden hair, greener eyes, can't speak French to save his life and guffaws when he laughs, right from the middle of his chest.

It aches when she opens them and he's right there, only across the table, his fingers entwined into her best friend's. Blair's talking about how delicious all of the pastries look. Nate glances at her to share a _look_; they both know Blair is probably going get a latte with non-fat milk and maybe steal one or two bites of whatever he's having. Which, between him and Serena, will probably be three or four or maybe all of the cafe's desserts, even though their favourite sweets are still the caramels you can get off the streets.

She's not quite quick enough to hide away all of her sadness; Nate frowns slightly, raises his eyebrows at her. _You okay?_ Serena smiles brightly and shrugs, reluctantly pulling her gaze from him.

"You're right, B, they look fantastic. Let's get them _all_!" She beams at Blair and her date, who both look mildly shocked, though of course they are much too polite to let it show for longer than a second. Maybe no second date, then. Good. She looks to Nate again, who's grinning at her like she just had the best idea in the world.

It should be enough, she thinks, just to have this smile. She grins back and waves the waiter over.

* * *

She's at the hotel bar ordering her third martini of the night - Nate and Blair are upstairs in Nate's room, watching French romance comedies - when someone _bumps_ into her as he slides into the seat next to hers.

"_Desolee_," the boy drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. Somehow it comes off dirty, especially since his eyes linger while he's giving her the once-over. Serena's used to guys ogling her, but she's also used to them falling all over her. This boy looks like he expects her to fall over him.

"I don't speak French," she says, flashing the bartender a bright smile so he'll fast-track her drink.

"No problem. My English is _infinitely_ better." The brown-eyed brunette smirks at her look of surprise. "Chuck Bass. You're from America?"

"New York." Serena's not sure why she answered. Maybe because it's been a while since she's heard someone speak proper English, even if this boy has a British accent. His smirk grows wider; it's kind of creepy, really. But she's already started talking to him and the bartender was just accosted by a noisy group of girls.

"I almost grew up in New York. But my father decided he was in love with my British supermodel of a step-mom, so London it was."

"Step-mom?"

"Ex-step-mom," Chuck corrects, shrugging. "Ex-step-mom number one, anyway." He snaps his fingers at the bartender impatiently, who, surprisingly, hurries over. "The lady's martini. And a scotch on the rocks for me."

Serena stares at him. He's wearing an Armani suit and a Cartier watch and Gucci shoes, but all of her clothes are similarly branded so that's really not an indicator of age. Despite his carefully gelled hair and cologne Chuck Bass can't be much older than she is, yet the bartender takes his order as though he owns the place.

Wait. Bass - she's heard that name before. "Yup," Chuck says, just as the realisation hits her. "My father owns this hotel. After he left America he figured it was profitable to expand internationally. We've got chains in twenty different countries."

"Right." Bass Industries. Her mother's done business with them before. Bart Bass is an _old acquaintance_, apparently. Her mother and this boy's father have probably slept together, Serena thinks to herself. Her martini arrives, along with his drink. Chuck takes a sip and his eyes dart to her.

"So? What's your name?"

Serena can't help a smile forming on her face. "Serena. Serena van der Woodsen."

There's a long beat between them. Chuck frowns. "van der Woodsen? Like, Lily van der Woodsen? You're-"

"Yup." Serena downs her martini in one gulp. She was amused before, but now she's in a _really_ good mood. Chuck Bass is pretty cute, in a confused, almost-grumpy-since-he-couldn't-impress-her kind of way. He probably thought he was going to get laid. He just might; he's in front of her and she's in a mood for a party. Serena grabs at Chuck's hand. "So, Chuck Bass. Know anyplace fun?"

* * *

Serena and Chuck don't end up sleeping together that night, but it's only because she drags him to three different bars and dances on all of their bar counters. The first thing both of them do when they hit his bed is fall asleep, and when they wake up her hair is all tangled in his face and his legs are thrown over hers and he sneezes and she shoves and they both fall off the bed, giggling at each other like eleven year-olds.

Serena invites him to join Blair and Nate and her on their Paris vacation, because she likes Chuck and she doesn't want to be alone with the two of them. Chuck agrees because he can. At first Blair sniffs at his scotch and whiskey habits and Nate's confused about why their trio became a quartet, but he's pretty happy to have a companion when the girls are off shopping or doing their nails, and Blair quickly warms up to Chuck when she realises that he appreciates the museums as much as she does.

It's almost as if they've known each other their whole lives, the way Chuck falls so easily into their group, filling up the gaps Serena hadn't known were there. And it's eerie and comforting how much she falls into him: their first kiss happens on their first morning together, his lips slowly pressing into hers, his fingers gripping her hips as she mussed up his hair and tasted the whiskey-tainted orange juice on his tongue. It's sensual and only sensual, but she likes how slow he goes, kissing down her stomach, kneading into her skin. It's new; most guys she's slept with - the first guy she slept with, too - just grab at everything they can reach, too eager and too amazed that they're actually touching her.

It's just sex and they're just friends, she tells Blair when her friend asks. And it's true, at first. Chuck is great conversation and great fun but neither of them are the dating type. It doesn't stop Blair from pairing them off whenever she can, though. Which is most of the time.

"You have it bad," Chuck tells her, as she watches Nate and Blair get on the Ferris wheel at Disneyland. Serena whips around. "Please. Every time the two of them do something remotely romantic your face scrunches up a little bit, like you're going to cry."

Serena bites her lip and looks away; there's nothing to say. Chuck's smart and he's good at reading people, she's come to learn. They can always count on him to sneak them into bars and other places they're not allowed in. She wouldn't have wanted him to know this, though - she wouldn't have wanted anyone to know.

"Oh, crap, uh - your face is scrunching up for real this time," Chuck says, sounding panicked. "I shouldn't have said anything. Sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's not your fault," she tells him quietly. She's not crying because of him.

"Come on," he nudges her. "Let's go to the haunted house. And we can get that cotton candy you like so much, after."

Chuck doesn't have a deep fondness for sweet things and he hates getting his clothes messy - unless it's sex - so she knows he's making a huge sacrifice for her. Serena smiles, despite herself, and lets him lead her to the dingy looking haunted house in the far corner of the park.

Later, after the four of them are reunited, Chuck recounts the surprisingly scary skeletons and bloody nurses and Nate looks incredibly jealous. Serena knows it's probably not healthy, but she feels a little bit gratified. She squeezes Chuck's hand as thanks.

He squeezes back.

* * *

Serena learns a lot about Chuck in the following weeks. He's a hedonist through and through, completely fine with drinking at ten in the morning and picking up girls at every bar they stop by. He's always successful, but after the third week he stops going out every night, opting to stay in and drink with the three of them instead. Serena thinks Blair pulling him aside after their museum trip - which she and Nate spent in the museum cafe, rating visitor's outfits and creating narratives for the funny-looking ones - might have had something to do with it.

They have a lot in common. They both drink too much, have absentee parents, both had to grow up too fast and aren't that much better for it. Some nights when they're bored of sex they just drink champagne in bed, sitting back with their legs tangled in each other and talking until they fall asleep or the sun comes up. Blair and Nate have always been her best friends, but somehow Chuck is even more than that, perhaps because she can talk to him about secrets she can't tell the other two.

Like the fifteen times she'd kissed Nate over the past seven years, and the one time they went too far, the thing neither of them will ever tell Blair. Or Blair's indiscretion with Carter Baizen in junior year. She's the only one who knows their first night was neither of their first nights. And now Chuck. He doesn't tell her much in return, although he does talk about his father and the Bass empire, and the properties he's been scouting in Paris. They share stories about the strings of step-parents they've had, the money-grabbers and the parenters and ones who were downright unstable.

Over time Serena realises that the reason why Chuck doesn't tell her about his friends is because he doesn't really have any. The three of them are probably his closest friends, at this point. She realises a lot of things: Chuck is always warm, even when the air-conditioning is at full blast, which makes him nice to curl up to; his smirk is just his go-to expression, and it widening usually means he's impressed; he really, really admires the three of them. And he's very protective.

"You really should have grown up in New York," Serena tells him that night, tracing invisible lines over the back of his palm. Chuck can't shrug because she's pinned his upper body down to the bed, but he smirks.

"You met me in the end. It's fate."

Serena laughs because yes, it does seem like it is.

* * *

They continue to skirt at the edge of couple-not couple. Neither of them sleep with anyone else but they don't kiss unless it's foreplay. They hold hands and waists and touch, much more than Nate and Blair do, but to counter that Serena will squeal over a cute waiter or bartender and Chuck will make eyes at the French girls in their miniskirts, and everyone is generally confused about what exactly they are.

Until one afternoon. They're sitting by the edge of the hotel pool, the girls stretched out and suntanning, the boys drinking cocktails and watching some sports programme on an iPad. Serena hears Blair giggle through her earphones and she tugs them out, sits up to see what's so funny.

"As if you would know anything about taste, Chuck," Blair scoffs. But her eyes are sparkling and her lips are curled and Serena can _see_. Her stomach grows cold and she drops her earphones beside her.

So Blair likes Chuck. Serena stares into the pool, still and empty and quiet because Chuck had sweet-talked and bribed security to schedule a 'pool-cleaning' this afternoon. Shouldn't she be happy, then, that Nate's finally available? She looks over at the blond, who hasn't heard a single word exchanged between his two brunette friends. She still loves him; she always will.

"Hey." At some point Chuck must have walked over, because he was nudging her to claim a spot on her chair. His hands and legs are as comfortingly warm as ever. "You alright? You look a little lost."

Serena kisses him, suddenly, leaning into his bare chest. She can feel him still for a long, terrifying moment, before he shifts to hold her better, his hands coming up around her to grasp her hair, and he kisses her back, urgently.

It's only when they break apart for air that Serena becomes aware of Nate and Blair's gazes on the two of them. Blair's lips are a thin line; Nate looks utterly confused, his eyes darting in between the two of them. She's about to say something - though she has no idea what - when Chuck pulls her chin towards him gently and kisses her again, softly.

"I didn't know you guys were... dating," Blair says primly. "Did you, Nate?"

"No. You guys never said," Nate says, sounding slightly hurt.

"It's kind of a new thing." Chuck smirks as he leans his forehead against hers. "Right, Serena?"

"Mmhmm." She grins and presses up against him again, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Blair averts her eyes and pulls up her book again. Nate opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He shuts it again and looks down at the iPad, still playing his programme.

Chuck snakes an arm around her waist. It feels right. Familiar. Safe.


End file.
